


holi holi (holiday)

by norikae



Category: Pentagon (Korea Band), SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: M/M, Meet-Cute, available as podfic!, junan rise, why did i do this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-06-21 15:24:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15560757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/norikae/pseuds/norikae
Summary: “So,” he begins, casually, “Why are you looking for a mattress, anyway?”Yanan furrows his brows a little bit. “To sleep on. Is that not the usual?”





	holi holi (holiday)

**Author's Note:**

> i sincerely apologise i wrote this in half an afternoon because i Had To
> 
> [Now available as podfic here!!! ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17223104)

The sun is hot, _hot_ in the sky and aggressive through the full-length glass windows. Not even the air conditioning on full blast can do Junhui any favours, and he’s tried – got scolded by his supervisor, really, for standing in the same spot right under the vents without doing anything for hours. But this is Los Angeles, in the summer, and to have expected any better would’ve been the mark of a fool. _And Wen Junhui is nothing if not a fool._

Wait.

Junhui halts in the middle of his mental monologue, squinting so hard he swears he can see his nose. _That’s not right. Wen Junhui is_ anything _but a f-_

The doorbell tinkles, and a tall, slender figure ducks into the store, backlit briefly for one blinding, beautiful moment. Then he steps out of the high contrast and he’s all – dyed blond hair, white tee, black ripped jeans, gentle, pretty features quirked in an expression of slight inquisitiveness. In that nanosecond, in that ponderous slice of time – It’s like he’s an angel brought to life.

Junhui snaps to attention instantly, mouth falling open to spout his greeting. “Welcome to Mattresses, Mattresses & McMattresses! We strive you to bring! Mattresses! The best!”

That …didn’t go how he’d  anticipated, but he sticks the landing with a bright smile, the one that’d won him Most Likely To Become A Star in middle school superlatives. It’s all in the delivery.

The customer returns his fervent enthusiasm with a wary stretch of his lips, and Junhui inadvertently tracks his gaze to where it pans to the sign right behind him, declaring the store’s name and slogan. _Matt’s Mattresses – Bringing You Your Mattress Match!_

“Sorry,” Angel-on-earth says, licking his lips in a manner that is _distressingly_ distracting, “But uh… am I in the right store?”

Junhui’s trying his best, really, but his megawatt customer service smile dims _just_ a fraction, he can feel it. “You sure are!” he chirps, over-loud like increasing his volume will drown out the shame trying to engulf his entire being. “So… what are you looking for today? Can I get you anything? Tea? Coffee?” _Me?_

Pretty gives him a look like he thinks he should be paid for agreeing to this interaction. “A mattress.”

 _Right_. His rote training (and the stink eye he can already see Supervisor Choi giving him if he delays any longer) kicks in. “Our catalogue is. Uh. Right this way, sir…”

 _Wen Junhui_ , he decides, _is nothing if not a fool._

 

-

 

James-Blunt-You’re-Beautiful-dot-mp3 leaves with a copy of their catalogue that day, so imagine – _imagine!_ – Jun’s surprise when, the next day, he comes in again, still wearing white, still the most wonderful thing on the West Coast.

He stumbles to attention, hurriedly thumbing _Nekoatsume_ closed. “Mat, Matt, and Matty! How can we help you today?” He punctuates this with a lean over the counter and an exaggerated wink, like he’s inviting Blond Beauty in on a joke to be shared between just the two of them. He sincerely hopes his slightly obscure 00’s cartoon reference doesn’t erode his stunning appearance.

Gorgeous blinks, a flutter of long lashes, like he’s been taken by surprise, then very visibly represses a smile. “Well, I’d like to test some of the products, uh – “ his gaze drops to where Junhui’s heart is, like he can feel the connection between them, pulling them closer, an undeniable bond – “Christopher…?”

“Wait, what?” Junhui nearly shouts, not so much tugged out of his reverie as unceremoniously booted. “My name’s Junhui. Christopher’s kinda ratty lookin’, he really isn’t your type, y’know. Kind of a frat bro too, it’s just your luck you’re here on my shift and not his, you know the first week he was here he wouldn’t stop wiggling his eyebrows every time someone said they wanted to test the mattresses out and we had to stop him from offering his personal help because it really wasn’t doing us any favours –“

He’s rambling. He’s rambling, and he can’t stop, but Heaven Took More Time On You is tilting his head so far right it’s nearly perpendicular, so with a Herculean effort Junhui peters off his sentence. And concludes with a blinding smile. “Junhui,” he repeats, for emphasis, then sticks out his hand, though not before wiping it not at all inconspicuously on his jeans.

If Heaven Was A Place On Earth It’d Be In Your Arms nods slowly, then reaches out and shakes his hand decisively – they’ve held hands, they’re basically married. “You’re wearing the wrong nametag,” he points out, and before Junhui can have a crisis because _right, he’d forgotten his nametag this morning and nabbed the first one lying around in the break room_ , he continues. “Yanan.”

Oh, thank _god_ , a name. He’d been running out of flattering monikers.

 

-

 

On Wednesday, two days after he’d first set his blessed eyes on Yanan, the aforementioned man comes in again, all tousled hair and a white sweater top despite the heat outside. Junhui tugs at the collar of his ugly neon green polo, then delivers the smile he hadn’t spent the whole of lunch break practicing in the cracked bathroom mirror.

“Yanan! Fancy seeing you here!” Pity he hadn’t practiced opening his stupid mouth and letting words make their way out. “What can I do you for?”

Yanan takes a moment to answer, tearing his eyes away from Junhui’s neck area. Instinctively, Junhui glances downwards to check, but he’s wearing the right nametag today. “I’d, uh, I wanted to check out these other options,” he says, opening the catalogue and pointing at a bunch of mid-range mattresses, the kind with memory foam and guarantees of uninterrupted sleep.

Junhui raises his eyebrows, because _fancy_ , but then looks at Yanan’s soft sweatered being and decides it’s apt. The guy could come in with a pea and he’d scramble to ready the massive mattress sandwich required to carry out the rest of the tale. “Right this way,” he says, vacating his post and gesturing towards the right side of the showroom.

“So,” he begins, casually, “Why _are_ you looking for a mattress, anyway?”

Yanan furrows his brows a little bit. “To sleep on. Is that not the usual?”

His earnestness elicits a yelp of laughter that Junhui can’t contain. “No, no,” he says, still giggling through his words,  “I mean, like. Why don’t you already have one?”

“Oh.” Yanan nods intelligently, like this was a genuinely important question. “Previous tenant smoked in the room. Did you know mattresses were flammable? Imagine that.”

Junhui thinks back to the agonising weekend he’d spent right after being accepted for the job (apparently “I love to sleep and think that everyone should too!” is a _winning_ interview line) doing nothing but watching safety videos filmed in the nineties, all stilted acting and dissolve transitions. He’s about to say yes, of course he did, when he notices Yanan’s slightly cross-eyed gaze of concentration.

“No way, really?” he finds himself pronouncing, instead, and mentally cheers when the other’s expression bursts into a beam of sun.

“I know, right? Next someone’s going to tell me tomatoes are fruits. The world’s craaazy.”

Junhui grinds to a halt between _Comforters_ and _Duvet Covers_ , but Yanan keeps up his steady trot, oblivious to his erstwhile companion’s mental processes. _Oh god. He really doesn’t know. Should I tell him?_

Junhui jogs a little bit and catches up to his client, who’s now humming something under his breath as they walk. A little bit of concentration reveals it to be the love theme from that one teen love drama that was _everywhere_ two years back, and Junhui can almost feel the tears forming in his eyes. _No, no I shouldn’t. It would break his heart_.

“It be like that sometimes,” says his traitorous worm tongue, “It just do.”

 

-

 

On Thursday, Junhui’s trying to complete an _LA Times_ crossword in Chinese when the bell chimes, again, and, at a quarter past two, just like he has for the past three days, Yanan strides in, this time in a casual white oversized shirt and shorts that cut off right before his knees.  Junhui nearly coos at the sight.

“Back again? I must be your favourite mattress guy, huh,” he quips instead, folding the newspaper over so he doesn’t have to determine if he’s allowed to use homophones in his own made-up rules. It’s difficult being the only genius who understands yourself, sometimes.

He’s rewarded with the distinct sound of coughing as Yanan manages to stutter out, “You’re my _only_ mattress guy.” They share a stunned silence before Yanan’s eyes widen comically and he’s scrambling to patch up the hole with a “That – that didn’t come out right, I didn’t mean – _argh_!”, but Junhui can hardly hear him over his own riotous cackling.

“ _Anyway_ ,” Yanan huffs, flipping the catalogue open to a page seemingly at random, “I wanna check these out today.”

Junhui _never_ looks a gift horse in the eye – no, he gently and lovingly feeds it apples from a safe distance, because his cousin Minghao once had his sleeve chewed off by one of those creepy creatures, and okay, this metaphor might be getting away from him now – but he has to ask. “You… you wanna check out the ten grand range?”

To his credit, Yanan’s expression hardly wavers at all. There’s only the slightest twitch under his right eye as he purses his lips. Says, “Yeah, why not? I love sleep.”

Now, what were the chances of there being another thing they had in common? Junhui doesn’t believe in mere coincidence; he knows this is fate. They’re meant to be. But still, he queries, “You’re renting an apartment that nearly burned down but wanna fork ten grand out for a _mattress_?”

Apparently at the end of his patience, Yanan swipes the catalogue off the table and rolls it up, pointing it threateningly at Junhui. “Listen here, Christopher, _if that’s even your real name_ , I’m the customer, and you’re the mattress guy, so you just _lay off_ the budgeting concerns and do what I say, okay?”

He’s adorable when he’s flustered. Junhui’s eyes crinkle automatically, and without thinking he reaches upwards to pat Yanan lightly on his blond head. His hair’s as soft as it looks. “Got it, sir,” he chirps, “Right this way!”

 

-

 

It’s Friday. It’s half past two, and there is no pretty, tall figure swanning into their showroom in a flurry of white. Junhui can’t help the way his lower lip is sticking out so hard it’s threatening to eclipse the rest of his face as he abuses the work computer to play _QWOP_.

He manages to get to 17.3 metres before his go-to method – positioning his runner in a split and having him basically twerk his way forwards – fails him, and he watches as the avatar goes careening face-first into the track, one leg down and the other brokenly coming to rest cocked upwards and bent at the knee, like a tragic, badly coded scorpion’s tail.

“Big mood,” he mutters grumpily at the screen, hitting the X with a little bit more force than necessary. He’s only just reached his sixteenth page of Wikipedia surfing when there’s a chime, and when his head shoots up in response he’s greeted by an image so beautiful he could cry.

“Yanan!” he near-shrieks, and then, sheepishly toning it down by maybe three decibels, “What brings you here? You’ve made it through the whole catalogue. And,” he chances a glance at the clock, “It’s three pm.”

Whatever he says gives Yanan some pause, the other raising a finger and blinking uselessly in reply for a good moment. “No, I, uh.” He isn’t carrying the catalogue today, Junhui notices, and is his hair styled? “Listen, is your supervisor here?”

“Seungcheol-hyung? I guess, but last I saw he was sleeping in the breakroom. What’s up?” Junhui’s attention is fully piqued now. “Product problems? Inquiries? You can tell me, I’ll pass it on.”

“You tell me,” Yanan mumbles under his breath, sounding a tad miserable. “No. Well. I need to admit something. Junhui, I. I haven’t been entirely. Honest? With you…”

“No… it couldn’t be…” Junhui lets out a yelp, pointing at him in surprise and utmost betrayal. “ _You stole one of our mattresses!_ I knew you were too pretty to be true!”

“You think I’m pretty?” Yanan asks, sounding pleased. “Wait, no, that’s not the point. How would I even steal a mattress? Just, what, _put it in my pocket and leave?_ How did you even get there?”

Junhui shrugs airily. “You could be a fairy. They have powers.”

Yanan snorts, but it’s a poorly disguised laugh more than anything. “No, no, I didn’t. That’s not it. Why are you so…” he pauses, and just looks, expression verging dangerously on fond. Then he shakes his head. “But um. No! I came here to take a stand.”

Junhui doesn’t follow. “I don’t follow,” he says, “But for you I’ll use my last two braincells to try!”

Yanan lets out a noise like a particularly aggrieved giraffe. “ _No_ , see, that’s it. You clearly… Okay. Junhui, I ordered the cheapest mattress in the catalogue online on Monday. It’s already arrived.” He raises an eyebrow meaningfully, crossing his arms over his chest.

“ _Oh_ ,” Junhui says. He gets it. “You’re thinking of getting a replacement? Hold on, let me get the form, it’s somewhere here –“

“ _No_!” There’s a _thump_ of two hands onto Junhui’s desk, and Yanan is leaning in, dangerously close. “Do I have to spell it out for you?...” He sighs, then rubs at his temple. “I didn’t _need_ to come in on Tuesday, or on Wednesday, or on Thursday. Or today, really.”

Junhui pouts at the thought that he might not have been able to see Yanan for the past few days. “I’m glad you did, though,” he offers, just a bit shyly.

Yanan grabs at this like a man overboard at a life buoy. “RIGHT! Right. And I’m _glad too_ ,” he says slowly, looking Junhui very intensely in the eye. “Very. Glad. To see you.”

Jun blinks once, twice. And then a third time, for good measure. And then many more times, because it’s a thing that humans have to do. He thinks it’s cool that geckos don’t, though. “Wait,” he says, after he’s closed the twenty two mental tabs playing the _Nyan Cat_ theme song inside his brain. “Is this a confession?”

Yanan exhales incredibly noisily, a hand coming up to massage the area between his eyes. The exhale sounds suspiciously like _Finally_. “Yes,” he says, sighing. “Yes, it is.”

Junhui’s eyes and mouth form perfect “O”s. “O,” he says. “Is this the part where I ask you out?”

“Yes,” Yanan says, and then adds, “Please.”

So Junhui does.

 

**Author's Note:**

> #junan1stwin
> 
> i can be found screaming [ here](http://twitter.com/frogbabey)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] holi holi (holiday)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17223104) by [three_reads (three_mugs_of_tea)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/three_mugs_of_tea/pseuds/three_reads)




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